


Absolution.

by rubyrosettared



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: AU, AU Falcon and The Winter Soldier universe, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Falcon And The Winter Soldier - Freeform, Gen, Recovering! Bucky, and who is Katie??, just ideas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-14
Updated: 2019-12-15
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:26:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21785179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rubyrosettared/pseuds/rubyrosettared
Summary: Absolution: The act of forgiving someone for having done something wrong or sinful.Inspired by the song by Nothing But Thieves 'Take This Lonely Heart' (I'm often inspired by songs and song lyrics and this is no exception)Continuing on from 'The Beat of His Heart'  this story begins immediately afterwards when Bucky and Sam make a decision whether to work for Nick Fury. Time goes by and all seems to be going okay until a chance encounter in a book store threatens to blow Bucky's new carefully ordered life apart. Who is Katie?Completely AU with supposition used. All errors my own and unintentional.
Comments: 8
Kudos: 6





	1. Getting Started?

**Getting Started?**

Bucky follows Sam, Fury and Corrie out of the main building and onwards to the building that contains the promised living quarters. His brain is buzzing; thoughts circling and clashing, still struggling to comprehend it all. Working in an official capacity. Separate living quarters. Access to the best minds. The best equipment. Funded by Pepper. The chance to be able to make real amends. With Sam at his side.

If only Steve could see him now.

This is all down to Pepper’s generosity and he’s finding it hard to come to terms with that most of all. He guesses that to anyone else this is a dream come true but there’s a part of him that isn’t completely comfortable with all of this. It shouldn’t be this easy. He doesn’t want it to be this easy.

* * *

Nobody says a word as they approach the sprawling single storied building. There’s a keypad attached to the wall beside what he can see it a heavily armoured door. Fury punches in a six digit number and he hears a low buzz and the door unlocks. Fury hauls it open and one by one they enter.

Bucky lifts his head slightly as lights begin to switch on and a disembodied voice welcomes Fury and Corrie but no one else.

“That’s your AI assistant. Similar in creation to JARVIS and also FRIDAY at the other Stark and Avenger enterprises, she’s here to assist you in this building with anything that you need. There’s another one in the main building and that one is assigned to there. There are two separate protocols in play, don’t get them confused.”

It’s the first time Corrie has spoken. Bucky is surprised that she’s British. He glances briefly at Sam to see similar surprise cross his face too.

“Does she have a name?” Sam enquires.

“I’ve got used to calling her Amy. Her voice sounds like an Amy to me,” she confides and Bucky watches her, interested in this tiny piece of shared information.

“Well, Amy is kinda like _ami,_ the French for friend, so it fits,” he murmurs and sees the flash of understanding that appears in her eyes. It’s strangely satisfying to see.

She gifts him a shy almost self-conscious smile before she turns away and she’s all business again. Sam in the meantime turns his head and gives his friend a long speculative look,

“Well look at you, Mr Insightful,” he murmurs, eyes twinkling. Bucky just rolls his eyes and gives his head a little shake in response.

* * *

They stand in a medium sized lobby area and Bucky takes in the clean modern lines. He doubts there’s a smudge of dirt anywhere. He sees a door to his left and his right.

“The door on your left is an exit. It’ll take you out into the grounds. You’ll be able to see more in a moment. The door to your right leads into a garage. You’ll also be able to explore that later. If you’ll follow me?” Corrie begins to walk again, heading through a door directly in front of her. They follow.

And enter a large open plan area. Bucky can see immediately that it’s a recreational space. There are groups of comfortable chairs and sofas clustered together in conversational groups. A large flat screen television graces a wall, another group of chairs clustered around that. In another corner is an open plan kitchen, the units shiny and new. He gets it, all going well, they could get together for meals and conversation and the idea of that sits somewhat uncomfortably with Bucky. He still very much prefers his own company but once in a while Sam shows up on his doorstep to drag him into civilization. Taking this all in, if he decides to accept all of this, Sam won’t need an excuse to drag him anywhere. It’ll be right outside his bedroom door.

He watches Corrie as she walks through the large room, where it narrows a little and he sees the various doors.

“Personal living space. Each one comes with its own bathroom." She moves to the closest one on her left and opens it. She looks over her shoulder as the three of them follow her into it.

She pauses in the room’s centre.

“Each space can be adapted to your personal needs. If you need a bigger or smaller bed, let me know. I just assumed that you’d both prefer king sized. You’ll have space for anything you choose to bring with you. If you want to change the décor in any way, make a request but you’re welcome to customise your space how you’d like it, aesthetically.”

Bucky takes in the spartan furnishings. The bed is large and looks comfortable. A plain white comforter is spread across it with a couple of pillows for company. One wall contains built in bookshelves. Across from the bed is a large flat screen television also attached to the wall. Another grouping of a couch and a couple of armchairs are clustered around it and he also notices a desk with a computer gracing its surface beside his bed. It all looks very comely. He reckons everything he currently owns would fit into one drawer of a chest of drawers he can see nearby.

He looks back at her.

“This looks fine,” he tells her, his voice low.

“There’s also the communal area. With a large flat screen television, extensive streaming library, Netflix, Amazon, sports, movies, whatever you’re into. There’s a kitchen area with a dining area too. Everything you could need is there. All we ask is that you treat your surroundings with respect and try to keep your space relatively clean and tidy. I’m here to grease the wheels of various missions, I’m not your maid service.” The way she stares at each of them in turn at this announcement makes Bucky realise that she’s not kidding about that one.

“Understood,” he murmurs with a small nod.

“So, what do you think? You interested?” This comes from Fury who has stood beside Corrie and observed Sam and Bucky’s reaction, to the living quarters as well as the work headquarters.

Sam and Bucky exchange a long look before Sam looks back at him.

“Give us a few minutes to talk?” he asks.

“Take as long as you need. We’ll be in the main building.” He looks at Corrie and the pair of them take their leave.

* * *

Once they’re alone, the two men take in their surroundings once again.

“Man, this place is incredible, don’t you think?” Sam asks him.

Bucky doesn’t answer immediately, he’s still taking everything in.

“It is kinda cool…”

“But? I’m sensing a but, somewhere in there.”

Bucky sighs. “It shouldn’t be this easy, Sam. I didn’t ask for any of this. When I first mentioned the idea to Steve and to Pepper, it was just an idea.”

“And now it’s all a reality. I get it. You know, you can just say no and walk away, no one would judge you for it.”

“Except for you maybe. You want to do this.”

Sam just shrugs. He does want to do it.

“At least this way, it’s sanctioned. We’ll have support and it’s all above board,” he tacks on.

Bucky doesn’t answer but he’s still frowning a little.

“It could be the start of something really worthwhile,” Sam coaxes, edging a little closer to him.

“Or a complete disaster.”

“Or a complete disaster but with Fury, Maria Hill and Sharon Carter on board, I doubt it. And Corrie seems okay.”

“Maybe.”

“You know Steve would tell you to go for it.”

Sam is right, Steve absolutely would. He gives his head a little shake at the thought and he glances back at Sam.

“He would,” he agrees and the look he sends Sam tells him he played a low blow there. Sam just grins, knowing fine well what he’s just done.

“What the hell. You really want to do this?” Bucky asks and Sam smiles again.

“I do. I really want to do this. It’ll be good training for me too, for when I need to wield the shield.”

“Wield the shield,” Bucky murmurs with a roll of his eyes and another subtle shake of his head.

“Well it takes practice, I’ve gotta know how to throw it effectively and catch it.”

“I’ve caught it mid-flight, have I mentioned that to you before?”

“Maybe once or twice.”

“There’s a knack to it. Having a metal arm is a bonus too.” He flashes a smile at Sam’s disgusted look and then chuckles quietly. “C’mon, let’s go break the good news.”

* * *

“That’s all you’ve got?”

Bucky places the suitcase on his bed and carefully lowers the small cardboard box beside it. He turns his head and looks at Sam who now stands beside him.

“So I travel light,” he replies.

“Light is an understatement, you literally have just a little more than the clothes you’re standing up in,” he tells him and Bucky shrugs.

“I don’t have much and I was just renting my last place.” His last place had been a single room with a tiny little kitchenette attached to it. It was nothing special but it suited his purposes and it was his.

“That place should’ve been condemned,” Sam mutters with a shake of his head and he turns and heads out. Bucky watches him for a moment before he returns his attention to his suitcase and box. He huffs out a sigh and begins to unpack.

Clothing consists of a few pairs of jeans, underwear, socks, some t-shirts and a couple of zip up soft jackets, hoodies he’s heard them being called. He puts them away and accepts that Sam is right, he doesn’t have a whole lot of anything but he hasn’t really had the chance to accumulate a lot of stuff. Maybe that’ll change. A few more clothes, some more books for the currently empty book case in here.

He remembers he used to love to read when he was younger. He frowns slightly, deliberately not thinking that the time when he was younger was close to a century ago. Memories are still coming back to him. His past isn’t as much of a haze as it used to be. He’ll remember faces, snatches of conversation, music, smells and sounds. He’s thought about maybe looking into his family history. According to the memorial to him at the Smithsonian in Washington, he was the eldest of four and he knew instinctively that he had a little brother and two little sisters. Names were a little hazy to begin with but Rebecca was a name that resonated with him the most and Steve told him back in Wakanda that his next to younger sister went by that name. As time went by he remembered his other siblings went by Charlie and Rose. He frowns slightly at this. Rose was barely in high school when he shipped out to England and cried in his arms the day he left. Part of him is curious; he knows that they’re not alive anymore, or if they are, they’ll be close to a hundred years old. Do they have surviving families? He huffs out a quiet sigh as he looks down at the cardboard box.

He pulls open the flaps and reaches inside and picks up the photograph. It’s in a cheap looking frame. Four kids, ages from eighteen down to six. Rose was the surprise baby, she came along when nobody expected it and so she was spoiled a little by all of them, him especially. They’re all sitting on the steps leading from their apartment block down to the sidewalk. Left to right: himself, Rebecca, Charlie and little Rose, who’s leaning up against Charlie who has an arm slung across his baby sister’s shoulders. They’re all smiling for the camera. They all looked so unknowing back then, so innocent. It was a hot summer’s day he remembers, he can still feel the heat of the sun against his upturned face. A faint smile crosses his face at the memory. His mom had said she didn’t have nearly enough pictures of her four children all together. She was also laughing as she took the shot. Cameras cost a fortune in those days, no camera phones and such like back then, so pictures like these were extra precious. Steve got this one for him, gave it to him in Wakanda with a soft smile. He still doesn’t know how he come by it.

Bucky places the frame on the bed and reaches in for the second one. This time his smile is wider when he takes it in. Taken a year or two later. Bucky and Steve, a different Steve to the one the world got to know. This was way before Project Rebirth. Skinny underfed Steve Rogers with stick thin arms and legs, concave chest barely wide enough to let a decent breath into those undersized permanently congested lungs. A matchstick width neck that looked barely strong enough to support an oversized head with hollowed out cheeks and shadows beneath stubborn but kind blue eyes. He remembered when the temperatures began to drop then Steve got sick, one ailment after another. Every year like clockwork. He barely survived one particularly brutal winter. They’re sat on the very same stoop and Bucky’s arm is around his best friend’s neck and they’re laughing. Even then the bonds of brotherhood and love were strong. An emotion that carried through the decades, through the most difficult and trying of circumstances. He still misses him now.

He gives his head a slow shake as he places that picture beside the other one and takes out the rest of his sparse treasures. A couple of dog-eared paperback novels and a handful of notebooks. The paperbacks and photos go on the bookcase, the notebooks he pushes into a drawer of a bedside cabinet. He still writes a lot of stuff down. Not always memories. Occasionally there are diary entries and short- he doesn’t exactly know what to call them- train of thought stuff maybe. It helps to unpack a lot of what’s still going on inside of his head. Some nights, when he can’t sleep, he reads through them. It helps settle turmoil that still rumbles through his brain from time to time. Sometimes re-reading helps refine and expand on memories too. He needs to buy some more the first chance he gets.


	2. Day Off

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three months down the line and Bucky gets a day off.... or does he and who is Katie? 
> 
> Some supposition used.

**A Day Off**

**_Or is it?_ **

It’s been three months and so far, so good.

Things seem to be working out. They’ve worked steadily since Bucky agreed to be a part of all of this. They’re a good team. He’s used to working with Sam but Fury, Sharon, Maria and Corrie are all new to him. It took a little bit of time to get a rhythm established, to understand how everyone worked as an individual as well as a team. It had taken him a little while to trust everyone but now he does and they work well together, like a well-oiled machine. He enjoys working on their missions. He’s realised that he likes planning the finer details, working out any knots, any problems that may occur and he’s learned that he has an aptitude for it. People listen to him, take him seriously. Here he’s part of the team and not just a weapon, an Asset.

He remembers that he was once part of a team during the Second World War and a successful one at that. Fury had managed to get hold of some old declassified files from back then, of old missions completed by the Howlies. He’d read them with interest and it felt weird looking at the photographs that accompanied some of the files and seeing his face in there. Younger, somewhat more innocent. All upright and reasonably clean shaven. Sam had chuckled at the short back and sides for a few minutes but Bucky had concentrated on those pictures, remembering Dum Dum, Gabe, Morita with vague memories of laughter around various campfires, sharing stories of home, funny tales of boot camp and thoughts of what they’d do once the war was over. He doubts any of them are alive anymore. It makes him sad especially as some of the fresher memories feel like they happened just yesterday. It felt like a much more innocent time back then even though in truth it wasn’t. Even then his personality was beginning to change, the shiny exciting newness of army life quickly wearing away.

* * *

A hot shower loosens tight muscles. For a moment he just enjoys the sensation of the heated water pouring down on him. He has memories of being stripped and shoved into shower blocks post mission as the Asset. Of shower heads pulsing ice cold water down on him, dirt and blood being scrubbed away with sharply carbolic scented soap. Of being hosed down, trying not to shiver too much before being dragged out again so these days a leisurely hot shower is something he savours, a guilty pleasure almost. He can be quick when he has to be but when he doesn’t, he likes to take his time and there’s always plenty of hot water.

Bucky heads out of his room a short while later. He’s hungry and thoughts of breakfast and a hot cup of coffee are uppermost in his mind. He’s in dark blue sweats and socks as he heads towards the kitchen. Habit makes him wear a hoodie. He’s still not completely comfortable enough to wander around the place with the left arm on display. He hunts out cereal and pours some into a bowl, adding milk and he leans against the kitchen cabinets and digs in, crunching happily. Coffee can wait a minute or two, the hollow ache in his stomach needs to be assuaged first.

He lifts his head when he hears a door open and watches Corrie head towards him. She’s like him, newly awake and in sweats. She offers him a faint smile as she heads to the coffee pot. She retrieves a mug from the cupboard above it, glances at him and then grabs another.

“Want one?” she enquires and he just nods, crunching on another mouthful of cereal. He watches her out of the corner of his eye as she pours it black into both mugs and pushes one beside him. He glances at it as he swallows down his cereal.

“Thanks,” he murmurs, before shovelling in another mouthful of cereal.

“No problem,” she responds and stands beside him, mimicking his relaxed stance as she wraps her hands around the mug and takes the first all-important mouthful of the day. He doesn’t speak. He gets it, the first sip is almost a religious experience.

Bucky empties the bowl, milk and all. Waste not want not. He rarely leaves left overs, he guesses he’s still not over the feeling of not knowing when he’ll see his next meal. Some habits are kind of hard to break. He carries the empty bowl to the sink and rinses it and loads it into the dishwasher before going to retrieve his coffee cup. He goes to stand beside Corrie once more and takes that first sip. Yep, definitely akin to a religious experience.

“No sign of Sam?” Corrie asks. He glances at her again.

“He’s taking a couple of days furlough, unless we’re called in again.”

“You’ve been working three months pretty much non-stop, I think you’ve earned the down time,” she replies, taking another sip of her coffee. Bucky shrugs.

“We could be called back at any minute but he’s just a phone call away.”

“You got any plans for your down time?” Corrie asks him and Bucky shrugs again.

“Not sure. Catch up with stuff, there’s laundry I need to do, paperwork to catch up with, errands to run.”

“What kind of errands?”

“Well I just got paid, I need to get some personal stuff and other things.” Plus he just wants the opportunity to wander. There’s a bookstore near the complex that looks interesting that he wants to check out.

“Same. I didn’t realise how busy we’ve been.”

Bucky glances at her again.

“Well…y’know… if we’re going in the same direction…”

She looks at him and her eyes widen marginally.

“I wasn’t dropping a hint. I was just agreeing with you, that’s all. I’m sure you have better things to do.”

“Not really. Two birds. One stone. Kinda.” Another shrug. “I mean, I just assumed we’re heading in the same direction, for all I know you could be heading in the opposite direction.” He’s beginning to wish he hadn’t made the suggestion in the first place.

“No. We probably are. It’s kind of you to offer...” He watches how she chews her bottom lip somewhat contemplatively. “If you’re sure?”

“I don’t make offers I don’t keep. You should know that about me by now I hope?” She glances at him and a faint smile lights up her eyes.

“I do,” she confirms. “Okay. Thank you, I appreciate it and I accept. When do you want to head out?”

“Whenever you’re ready. I’m not going far, I’ll be around. Come find me.”

Corrie nods slowly.

“Okay, I’ll do that.”

* * *

He’s loading the last of his laundry into the dryer when he hears Ami’s voice over the speaker system.

“Sergeant Barnes, Ms Harris said to tell you she’ll meet you in the garage in five minutes?” The voice is soft, definitely feminine and to Bucky’s ears, has the faintest of French accents. He still wonders whether that was a deliberate thing on Corrie’s part given their first conversation three months ago. He closes the dryer and sets it going.

“Okay Ami, I’ll be there,” he tells the communication system and heads upstairs.

He grabs a jacket and shrugs it on, making sure he has his wallet and his phone on him and he heads to the huge garage.

Corrie is standing beside one of the shiny black SUV’s, frowning at her phone. She then looks up and smiles at him, pocketing the device at the same time.

“Hey,” she greets. Bucky offers a faint smile in return.

“Hey yourself. Ready to go?” he answers. She straightens up. She has the car keys in one hand. She looks at them and then back at him.

“You wanna drive?” she enquires, holding them out. Bucky lifts both hands, palms outwards.

“Only if you don’t want to.”

Corrie grins and palms them again. “Oh I want to, I just thought I’d ask. Some guys can be a little gun shy around a woman taking the wheel.”

Bucky briefly grins as he heads to the passenger side. “My masculinity is absolutely okay with the idea of a woman driving. Have at it,” he half laughs, climbing in and slamming the door.

“You’re a rare example. Not many are.”

“Yeah well. I work with three women, I had two sisters, my mom taught me the way to win a woman’s respect was to treat them _with_ respect.”

“Which you do. Your mother sounds like quite the lady.”

Bucky fastens his seatbelt and he smiles softly.

“From what I can still remember, she was. She didn’t conform to the stereotypes of the day. She taught me and my brother our way around the kitchen. Told us never to rely on a woman to cook and clean for us, or to expect a woman to do it. She told us that while she hoped we’d find someone to settle down with, that we shouldn’t expect it.”

“Wow. A woman ahead of her time.” 

Bucky slowly nods in agreement, “she was,” he agrees softly. Corrie smiles to herself as she starts up the engine.

* * *

Bucky retreats into silence as they head out of the complex and merge into mid-morning traffic. His thoughts go back to when he was younger, before he joined the army, before thoughts of fighting for his country entered his head. His mom wanted him to be a good, honest man, to be a gentleman and to take care of his sisters if for any reason she wasn’t around to do so. She hadn’t liked the idea that he was conscripted into the army but he knew she was proud of him anyway. He turns his head and he looks at Corrie. She’s navigating traffic, her eyes watchful yet calm.

He takes a breath.

“Can I ask you something?”

She turns her head and she glances at him and she flashes a soft smile his way before concentrating on the traffic again.

“Sure.”

“And could you keep it just between us?” Another look, a little more surprised this time.

“Of course.”

Bucky leans back in his seat and stares straight ahead and wonders whether what he’s about to propose is a worthwhile idea.

“Since this gig started, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. About my past mostly.”

“Your past?”

He looks her way and shrugs. “Yeah. Before the War. Before I joined the Army.”

“What about it?”

“My family. If I have any left.”

“You want to find out?”

Bucky slowly sighs, looking straight ahead again.

“I’ve thought about it. Gone backwards and forwards over it all constantly. Would it be a good idea, I mean I know my parents will be long gone, my brother and sisters too probably but there’s a part of me that would like to know whether they got married, had kids, grandkids, that kinda thing but then I think…what would be the point? Would they understand, that I’m over a hundred years old and I look thirty. Would it be a little bit too…I don’t know, _weird?_ ” It feels like a huge heavy weight has been lifted off his chest confessing those thoughts to her and for a moment there’s silence.

“You forget, the entire universe went through a five year long blip where half of humanity evaporated into dust, including yourself and Sam as well as Fury, Hill and Carter so no, I don’t think it would be weird.” Bucky notices she didn’t include herself in that list.

“Point taken but five years compared to eighty? What if they don’t know who I am? And there’s the whole Winter Soldier, Hydra stuff… maybe they wouldn’t want to be associated with that anyway?”

“How about we take a look at any paperwork and you can take it from there? We can do some digging and you can make a choice on what to do next?” she suggests. Another look her way.

“We?”

“Yeah, we. If you want me to help out, I’d be happy to.”

“You’ve got enough on your plate running things back there, I couldn’t possible expect you to take this on also.”

Corrie shrugs. “I also don’t make offers if I don’t intend to carry them through, Barnes. And I’m kind of nosey so I’d like to. Really.” She offers him another faint smile.

“And you also forget, ferreting out relevant information is what I do, so I’d like to. Just let me know when you’re ready to proceed and if we’re not snowed under with work, we’ll get started. Deal?”

Bucky returns the faint smile with one of his own. “Deal,” he confirms.

* * *

It’s busy and if he’s to be honest, crowds still have the tendency to make the hair stand up on the back of his neck. His eyes scan faces as he walks beside Corrie. He’s picked up some essentials and next task on the list is shopping for some new clothes. He walks into a clothing store and pauses on the threshold just absorbing the atmosphere.

This is going to be interesting.

Loud…well he guesses the younger generation would call it music but to his ears it sounds like an assault in progress. He takes in the racks of clothing, the weird looking mannequins dressed in what’s considered the latest fashions and he eyes them all with deep suspicion. Half of the outfits looked like items of torture to go along with the godawful music assaulting his ear drums. He sees bored looking sharply dressed assistants dotted around the store’s interior, eyeing him somewhat suspiciously. He resists the urge to squirm. He still hasn’t gotten around to cutting his hair yet and he shaves when he remembers to, which isn’t often so he can maybe understand their suspicion….

“Hey.” He flinches when he feels the gentle pressure on his shoulder. He’s completely forgotten Corrie is beside him. “You okay?”

He looks at her. “Yeah. These places just…” His words fade away as he takes in his surroundings once more. Corrie follows suit.

“Yeah, I see what you mean. Do you know what you’re looking for?” Her voice is gentle, even above the racket passing as music in here.

“Jeans. T-shirts. Stuff.”

“Do you know your size?” He looks at her again.

“Sorta.” To be perfectly honest, he hasn’t really paid much attention. If it fits then great, if it doesn’t then he goes up or down a size where necessary.

“Okay, let’s take a look, see what’s available, if anything catches your eye. Do you have any favourite colours?” 

Bucky sighs. “Not really. It’s been a while since I had any real choice in the matter. When I wasn’t needed on missions, I was… well clothing wasn’t really an important issue, if you see what I mean.” He knows that she does. She will have read his files about his time as the Winter Soldier, The Asset. Mindless Assassin. Machine. When he wasn’t on a mission he was clad in a black neoprene body suit and frozen.

“You got away from them. You spent time in Europe before heading to Wakanda. What did you wear then?”

Bucky looks down at the jeans he’d changed into prior to meeting her in the garage. “Pretty much what you see now. Habit makes me go for dark clothing. I’m not a one for neon colours or pastel shades.”

“No, you aren’t though I bet you look good in a suit,” she murmurs almost to herself. He hasn’t worn in a suit in…he can’t remember. He genuinely can’t remember.

“C’mon, let’s take a look, see what they have. If you need to know sizing, I’m sure one of the shop assistants will be happy to help out.”

“They think I’m homeless,” he mutters, venturing further into the store.

“What they think is irrelevant. Your money is still good,” Corrie whispers back.

* * *

And he’s glad that she came along. She’s proved to have an excellent eye and a gentle opinion. Now he has a couple of pairs of jeans, some t-shirts, a couple of sweaters and a hoodie. She’s also promised to help him find some boots and sneakers but he’s mentally worn out and so that’s a trip for another day.

“Let me buy you a cup of coffee,” he asks as they head out into the street again. She glances at him, mildly surprised.

“Why?”

“Why? Because you got me through what could’ve been a pretty traumatic experience, that’s why.”

“You don’t have to, you would’ve done the same for me,” she replies and he glances at her. He shakes his head.

“No, I really wouldn’t. What I know about clothes is…pitiful.” He wouldn’t even know where to start where women’s clothing is concerned. It’s not something he’s made a habit of doing.

“Oh, I don’t know. You held your own in there, you know what suits you, what you’re comfortable in, what looks good on you.”

“Because I’ve spent the last few years keeping it simple and not drawing attention to myself, that’s why. C’mon, one cup of coffee?”

Corrie then sighs and she pauses in the middle of the sidewalk and she looks up at him. He pauses also and watches her, waiting for what she’s about to say.

He’s about to throw a muffin into the deal when all of a sudden someone barges into her and knocks her clean off her feet. Bucky lunges towards her, their conversation forgotten, eyes urgent. Corrie’s are wide with shock as she hits the ground.

“You okay?” he asks, taking her hand and helping her to her feet. He watches as she looks down and it’s then that Bucky realises that her purse is missing. He turns his head and he sees someone making a rapid getaway, the crowds of people diving out of the way to avoid them. He drops his bags at Corrie’s feet.

“Hold onto those…” he tells her and before she can say another word, Bucky takes off after her mugger.

* * *

He makes quick progress and it helps that people are quick to get out of his way too. He doesn’t pay them any attention as he dodges and weaves around the bodies, his attention firmly fixed on his target. He feels the adrenaline begin to pump through his bloodstream as he gains on him. He looks like a big guy, easily as tall as he is. He’s wearing dark clothing and there’s a black baseball cap on his head. Bucky watches as he looks over his shoulder and his eyes widen with panic when he realises how close he is to him. He pushes harder and so does Bucky who reaches out and grabs a handful of his jacket and he lifts him off his feet. He hears his yelp of surprise as they both go down in a tangle of arms and legs.

Bucky hits the ground hard and feels the air whoosh from his lungs as he rolls over, taking the other guy with him. Bucky pushes himself over him, gripping hard onto the front of his jacket and using the extra momentum, manages to get to his feet, bringing the mugger up with him. The guy stares at him in shock.

“You have something that doesn’t belong to you,” Bucky reminds him. He sees the other guy swing and he ducks, feeling the whistle of air over his head. He pushes him back and down an alley, shoving him up against a dumpster, hard enough to leave a dent in the metal. With his other hand, he wrenches the bag free and he throws it behind him, out of his way. Bucky takes a look at him. He isn’t what he expected a mugger to look like. For one, he’s pretty well dressed, clean shaven, clean clothes. The cap is gone. He doesn’t look like an addict or homeless or someone desperate for money. The man just stares at him and then he begins to smile, his earlier fear beginning to dissipate.

“You’re him, aren’t you?” he begins. Bucky frowns.

“Who do you think I am?”

“Him. The Soldat. I’ve heard all about you from my boss. He’s really interested in you. I guess we’ll be seeing each other again soon.”

“Bucky?”

He twitches his head to the side at the sound of Corrie’s voice and the mugger uses the distraction to swing at Bucky again, his fist catching his chin, causing his head to snap back and to lose his grip on him. For a minute, just a minute, Bucky sees stars.

“Bucky?” Corrie sounds worried and Bucky looks in her direction again and he sees her come into view. She’s a little out of breath, carrying his shopping bags. He turns his head in the opposite direction and sees her mugger running. He goes to chase him again but feels Corrie grab his wrist.

“No. Don’t,” she instructs and he pauses and looks back at her.

“You okay?” he asks and sees her nod. She still looks a little pale to him. He then turns and looks behind him, where her purse still lies and he goes to pick it up. He walks back to her and he hands it to her.

“I don’t think he got a chance to look inside but check it anyway,” he tells her. Her eyes are still wide but she pulls open the zipper and looks in. Bucky watches her silently and after a minute she looks back up at him.

“Everything’s here.”

“Good.” He then touches his jaw where the other guy’s fist had made contact. It aches a little to the touch and he winces slightly.

“You need to get some ice on that,” Corrie tells him and he looks at her and he gives a quick shake of his head.

“I’ve had worse, I’ll be fine,” he tells her instead. He then turns his head and he looks down the alley again. It’s deserted. He then looks back at the dumpster and something catches his attention. It’s the black baseball cap. He reaches down and picks it up with his left hand.

“What?” Corrie enquires. He looks at her.

“Just something he said, that’s all.”

“What did he say?”

“He seemed to know who I am, called me Soldat, said that his boss was interested in me and that I’d see him again soon.”

“Did you recognise him?”

Bucky just shakes his head, looking back at the cap.

“I mean, some people do know about me, it’s not like I’ve been completely under the radar. He coulda just been blowing off steam or something….”

“But you don’t believe that?”

“I don’t, no.” Not many people know to call him Soldat and that alone makes him slightly uneasy. He watches as she unzips her purse and takes out a medium sized clear evidence bag.

“You carry those things around with you?” He can’t hide his surprise.

“Aren’t you glad that I do?” She angles the bag towards him and he drops the hat inside. She seals it up and puts it in one of his shopping bags, picking it up and handing it to him.

“I’ll get it to our lab when we get back, swab for DNA, see if he’s in any of our databases.”

“Good thinking. I’m pretty sure that I don’t recognise him and I got the impression we haven’t met before today but given my past, that doesn’t really mean anything.”

“Let’s get out of here. I could do with that coffee after all,” she tells him and she waits until he picks up the rest of his shopping bags and they head out of the alley.

The encounter has left Bucky feeling a little exposed, a little bit vulnerable and edgy as they make their way to a coffee shop further down the street. He can’t even begin to guess how Corrie must be feeling.

* * *

They sit together at a booth near to the window. Bucky had contemplated sitting further away but he’s still feeling a little unsettled and has a need to keep an eye on things. Call it his training kicking in but he feels the urge to watch rise strongly inside of him. Their coffee arrives and Corrie offers the waitress a smile of thanks. She watches her leave before she looks at Bucky. His eyes haven’t moved from the window and he’s watching people milling past with careful nonchalance. To anyone else, he’s people watching but she’s got to know the keen sharpness that she sees in him now. He’s in work mode.

“Hey. Drink your coffee,” she reminds him. He seems to blink and then look at her and then down at the white cup by his elbow.

“Thanks,” he murmurs and picks it up. She watches as he takes a slow contemplative sip, his attention once more returning to the people outside of the window.

“You think the mugging was a cover for something else?” she asks him and his eyes flick to her face. He slowly lowers his cup back onto the table between them and gives an equally slow one shouldered shrug.

“Not sure. Possibly. One the one hand it could’ve just been someone wanting your purse and just not realising what I can do but on the other….” He sighs. “He called me Soldat and not many did.” _Namely Hydra._

“Which implies the opposite.”

“And that someone has possibly been watching us since we got here and grabbing your purse was just a test.”

“But this trip was completely spontaneous, we didn’t make any plans to come here til an hour or so before we left. The complex has the best security system in the western hemisphere, I refuse to believe anyone got in, planted a bug and is listening to or watching our every move.”

“But you’re gonna check anyway.”

“I’m definitely gonna check anyway,” she confirms.

“Sensible.”

“So, if it’s in fact a set-up, would you have any idea who it could be?” Corrie asks him. Bucky sighs and looks down at his coffee cup.

“It could be anyone. Before the blip, I was wanted by just about every country on the planet. Since we set this gig up, we’ve upset a lot of people, like a _lot,_ doing what we do. Top of the list would be Hydra. Maybe they’re looking to get the Asset back. If someone is coming after me, finding out who it could be would be kinda like making a list, closing my eyes and sticking a pin and seeing where it lands.”

“No one’s getting anyone back, let’s make that part clear straight away,” Corrie assures him and then sighs, “Let’s see if we get a DNA hit from that ball cap and if it takes us anywhere.”

Bucky just nods. Takes another sip of his coffee and returns his attention to the outside world.

And thinks about the times he was made to change history.

* * *

He loves book stores. He loves their rarefied peaceful atmosphere. The smell of new books, the anticipation of seeing what’s on the shelves. In here no one pays attention to him, to his overlong hair, his beard or the fact that he wears a single glove covering his left hand indoors. He pauses for a moment just inside the entrance and just absorbs it all. While he was on the run, he’d often venture into stores such as this one, where it was warm and quiet. It’s been a while since he’s had the opportunity to do it again.

He used to love to read. At Christmas time, there’d always be a new book as a gift for him under the tree from his mom and dad. Around his birthday his mom would take him to the closest book store and allow him to choose one as a present. If his dad got a bonus from the docks, he’d buy them all a little something, nothing too expensive, just something small, something nice, something they’d cherish and most times Bucky chose something to read. Now he can buy new books whenever he wants, he doesn’t have to wait for a special occasion. Previously he used to pick up old dog eared paperbacks from thrift stores for a dollar or so, it’s been a while since he’s chosen something brand new. He doesn’t even know where to begin.

Corrie watches Bucky take in his surroundings. There’s a gleam in his blue grey eyes that she hasn’t really seen outside of work. Anticipation. This time it isn’t for the mission lying ahead of him, this time it’s for something personal, something pleasurable and it makes her smile a little. Who knew the Winter Soldier was a bookworm? She was somewhat surprised by his request to visit here after their pitstop at the coffee shop and for a moment she was ashamed of how she so wrongly judged him. He likes to read, so what? She can imagine he never used to get the chance to and definitely not during his years with Hydra.

“Do you know where you want to start?” she enquires and he turns his head and looks at her.

“Ummm…Not really,” he admits. She smiles.

“Start from the front and work your way to the back. We’re in no rush so take your time.” She sees how he returns his attention to the stacks for a moment.

“Really? I thought you’d want to get back to the complex, do your checks. You still can if you want to, I can make my own way back.”

Corrie shakes her head. “It’s fine. I like to browse too. Like you I don’t get much opportunity to so I’d like to, see what I’ve missed.” She points to a cluster of empty leather chairs to her right, bracketed by book shelves on two sides. “Whoever finishes first, head over there and wait for the other?” she suggests and Bucky nods.

* * *

It’s like Christmas has come early for him. All of these books to explore, different genres to try, authors to get familiar with. Already he has three thick paperbacks in his possession and has a definite feeling more will be added to the pile. He likes it here: it’s not a chain bookstore though he has nothing against those either but in smaller independent stores he feels there’s a wider range of those titles, genres and authors. He caught a glimpse of Corrie earlier, across the way from him, scrutinising the stacks, carrying a couple of books too.

“Excuse me, I’m sorry to intrude but…” The softly female voice comes from beside his right shoulder and Bucky automatically freezes. He then takes a calculated slow breath and turns his head and looks at its owner. He sees how her eyes widen, almost in shock.

“It _is_ you,” she breathes.

“Excuse me?”

“Oh my God,” she whispers.

Bucky Barnes freezes.

* * *

She looks to be around his age with tawny blonde hair that curls past her shoulders. Her eyes are predominantly blue but there’s a healthy mix of grey in there too. She has pale skin, slightly pink cheeks and Bucky is quite sure he doesn’t know her but somehow she seems familiar.

“Is there a problem?” he asks, keeping his voice low. The girl’s eyes widen with surprise.

“Oh…um…no. At least I don’t think so, I hope not. You’re him, aren’t you?” Her eyes are a little wide with, Bucky wants to say disbelief but he’s not completely sure. He remains very still. Another person who claims to recognise him yet he’s completely in the dark as to their identity. The ‘oh my God’ he’d heard doesn’t bode well. He swallows slowly against a suddenly dry throat. He feels a mixture of fear and panic encroach. What did he do? What does he do now?

“It depends on who you think I am,” he answers carefully. He looks over her shoulder at the other shoppers present in the store, where Corrie still browses across the store and oblivious to her surroundings. He guesses he could be out of the store in under fifteen seconds with minimal obstruction if he needs to leave in a hurry. He feels the hair prickle at the nape of his neck.

“You’re James Buchanan Barnes, Sergeant of the 107th Light Infantry. Went missing at Azzano. Lost in the Swiss Alps in 1944. A member of the Howling Commandoes.”

For a moment Bucky can’t answer. He quietly clears his throat instead.

“You went to the exhibition at the Smithsonian?” That’s the only way she’d know about any of that. The Captain America exhibition still draws huge crowds even now. The girl shakes her head.

“No. You were the eldest of four children.”

“Honey, you could’ve read that at the exhibition too.”

“Your siblings were Rebecca, Charles and Rose. Rose was the youngest. You were closest to Rebecca. You were known as Bucky, since before you could walk.”

Bucky goes very still and feels the colour drain out of him. Feels his heart begin to thump harder in his chest.

“Who the hell are you, lady?” he hisses. All of a sudden he’s covered in a clammy sweat and he feels the urge to bolt rise strongly inside of him which he pushes brutally down. The girl smiles somewhat nervously.

“My name is Katie Barnes. My grandfather was Charles Barnes. I was named after his mom… _your_ mom, my great grandma. You’re my…well I guess that makes you my Great Uncle.”

Bucky is aware that he’s staring at her in disbelief. White noise fills his ears, fills his skull. He then shakes his head.

“I’m sorry, you must be mistaken.” He sees her expression change to one of disappointment.

“But…you look just like my grandpa.”

“Then I guess I must have that kinda face.” Once more he looks away, feeling his chest squeeze, trying to squash any air out of his lungs. He needs to get out of here. Away from her. He tries to take a deep breath, to reassure this girl that they couldn’t be related. How could they be?

 _Quite easily,_ a voice inside of his head replies.

But not _this_ easily, he argues to himself.

“I gotta…I’m sorry… I need to…” He dumps his books in her arms. She catches them quickly before they fall to the floor and watches as he bolts.

* * *

Corrie turns in time to see how Bucky looks at the blonde haired girl. When she’d first noticed their conversation, she’s almost grinned. Trust Bucky to get hit on in a bookstore of all places but then his expression slowly began to change and she quickly realised that he isn’t being hit on. The girl is talking to him but she can see him begin to space out and then a look of fear cross his face. It was enough to make Corrie head across to investigate further but as she does, she sees him hurry from the store, leaving the girl with an armful of paperback novels, instead.

 _What the hell?_ she wonders.

“Is there a problem?” she asks as the girl turns to watch Bucky leave. She looks back at Corrie and she sees the crestfallen expression on her face.

“The man you were talking to just now? What happened? What did you say to him?” Corrie demands.

“You came in with him earlier. Are you his wife?”

Corrie blinks back the surprise and then shakes her head. “His colleague. What happened?” she repeats.

“That’s Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes, right?” she asks.

“Who wants to know?”

The girl rolls her eyes. “I’m his great-niece. Katie Barnes, though he says I can’t be,” she explains and Corrie blinks in surprise. Of all the possible responses she expected to hear from her, that wasn’t one of them. She then sighs. She takes her arm and leads her to a reading table and she pushes her down onto one of the chairs. She lowers herself onto the one beside her, placing her books on the table between them, taking the pile of books out of the other girl’s arms and placing them beside them. She takes the girl in: brownish blonde hair, milk and roses complexion, blue eyes with just the right amount of grey in them to be familiar.

“It was,” she confirms, keeping her voice low. “You approached him to introduce yourself, right?”

“Yeah. I recognised him the minute he came in. He looks just like my grandpa Charlie, his younger brother. I have photos as proof. I’m not making it up, I mean why would I?” Her eyes widen slightly and Corrie sighs. _Why would she indeed?_

“You have to see it from his perspective. He’s been alone for such a long time. He knows next to nothing about what happened to his family. You took him by surprise. How did you honestly expect him to react to your revelation? With smiles and open arms?” She’s a little irritated by it. She then sees the bags on the floor behind the other girl, in front of the stack of books he’d been perusing, being carefully stepped around by other shoppers and she sighs again. He’s taken off and left his shopping behind once again. She looks back at the girl and takes her phone out of her jacket pocket and she opens the camera app.

“I need to do this for security purposes, I hope that you don’t mind.”

“For security purposes?” Katie parrots.

“I can’t go into Bucky’s line of work with you at the moment for those exact security purposes but I need to make sure that your claims are kosher. So I’m going to take your picture. Do you have a problem with that?” Her voice sharpens a little as if daring the other woman to argue with her. It’s been one hell of a day so far so she’d welcome the distraction somewhat if she did. The girl shakes her head and Corrie lifts up her phone and clicks off a couple of shots.

“Can I show you the pictures of my grandpa, to show you I’m not making this up?” Katie asks, her voice all of a sudden hesitant.

“Sure,” Corrie agrees and waits as Katie brings out her phone and calls up her photos.

“Here he is.” Katie turns the screen around and shows her a photo of the two of them, taken side by side, cheek to cheek. The connection is very strong between them and she’s right, even though this man is in his late eighties at least, he does look like Bucky. They have the same eyes.

“It’s a long shot but would you have any photos of your grandfather as a young man? I could show Bucky that picture but I have to warn you that I don’t know whether he’d recognise him.”

“Not on my phone but I could email some to you? Would that work?”

Corrie makes herself smile. “That would be wonderful, thank you.”

She opens her purse and takes out a small notebook. She opens it to a blank page and scribbles down her email address and also her cell phone number and tears the slip of paper out and hands it to her.

“How about you give me your cell phone number in return?” she suggests and pushes the notebook across. Katie nods and Corrie watches her write her contact information down.

“So, what happens now?” she asks as she pushes the notebook back to her. Corrie glances at the information before returning the notebook to her purse, zipping it firmly shut.

“Truthfully? I have no idea.”

“I didn’t mean to scare him off. I should’ve thought more about how to approach him. My grandpa had photos of him on show in his living room, he was so proud of him and he was devastated when he went missing. When I saw him come into my store, I couldn’t believe it, I thought I was hallucinating.”

“This is your store? You own it?”

“Used to be my grandpa’s. He started it nearly seventy years ago. He always loved books and said it was a family thing that his mother instilled in all of them. My dad took it over almost forty years later and I did two years ago when my dad retired. It’s called Buchanan Books.”

And Bucky’s middle name is Buchanan. Corrie leans back a little in her seat as she absorbs this piece of information and wonders for a moment whether it was a subconscious thing that made Bucky visit here in the first place.

“All I can do is pass on your information to Bucky. It’s down to him whether he’ll make contact. Chances are that he won’t or if he does, it may take him a while to take that first step. He’s just getting comfortable being in the world again. If you have any further questions then by all means contact me, but _only_ me. And I’d be grateful if you could keep your sighting of him to yourself for now.”

“My grandpa died five years ago, right before the blip happened but I’ll keep this to myself for now.”

“Thank you,” Corrie murmurs.

* * *

Ten minutes later she leaves the store, another bag added to the several she’s already juggling, Bucky’s included. She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t worried about him. She is, a little bit. This isn’t something she thought he’d do. He’s usually so calm and on the level but she can imagine, something as sensitive as this coming so close to her almost mugging, and so unexpectedly could and would unsettle him.

She emerges onto the sidewalk and she pauses for a moment and she wonders where on earth he could’ve gone. Perhaps he’s headed back to the complex. Maybe he’s headed back to the coffee shop. She hopes he isn’t too far away. She finds somewhere to stand where she isn’t in plain sight or in the way of other pedestrians and pulls her phone out again. There are no texts or missed calls. She pulls up his number and tries to make contact. It just rings out and eventually goes to voicemail.

“Shit,” she hisses, pocketing her phone again. Maybe she’ll get one of the geeks in the lab to ping his phone for a location. She takes a deep breath and heads to where her car is parked.

* * *

He’s standing beside the passenger door of her SUV and immediately she feels her blood pressure begin to slide down at the sight of him. He’s looking at his feet when she first sees him and watches how he lifts his head, looks at her for a minute and then decides to stare at his feet again.

She presses the key fob and hears the alarm system bleep off. She fully expects him to get into the passenger seat and not say a word. When he retreats into silent mode, nothing and no one can get him to talk. She opens the trunk and begins to load the bags inside. She doesn’t hear him move and almost jumps out of her skin when he appears beside her.

“Warn a girl why don’t you?” she breathes, clutching at her chest for a second.

“Sorry, thought you heard me.” He looks at the bags she’s placed inside. “Buchanan Books?”

“The name of the store you bolted from.”

“Oh.” He frowns.

“You want to talk about it?” she asks and she fully expects him to refuse. She closes the trunk and looks at him.

“She said her name was Katie Barnes. Said she’s my great-niece, Charlie’s granddaughter.”

“I know. She told me.”

She sees the surprise that crosses his face.

“What? You bolt from the store leaving your bags behind and you don’t think I want to know why?”

He leans against the rear of the vehicle and sighs long and hard.

“She caught me by surprise, that’s all.”

Corrie just regards him. “ I know. Must’ve been one hell of a shock, on top of the other fun we’ve had today. How do you feel?”

He lifts his head and looks at her and shrugs somewhat helplessly.

“I don’t know. Confused maybe,” he admits.

“That’ll be an understatement, even after what you asked of me earlier today. This had to be kinda freaky.”

“I didn’t mean to take off like that.”

“Under the circumstances, it’s perfectly understandable.”

“It won’t happen again, I promise.”

“On mission, I’d hope not. I took a photo of her, want another look?”

He frowns a little in consternation. “Why’d you take a picture?”

“Because I’m going to run every check I can think of on her. Make sure she’s who she says she is.”

“And why wouldn’t she be?”

“Because earlier today a guy you don’t remember having met before tells you he’s heard about you, called you Soldat and _his_ boss is looking forward to seeing you then not an hour later a woman you _also_ don’t know announces to you, in the middle of a book store you visited for the first time ever by the way, that she’s your great-niece. You can be absolutely assured that I’m checking her out. The minute we get back by the way. And you owe me thirty bucks.”

“For what?”

“Those three books you’d chosen. The way you carried them all around the store before your unexpected encounter, I guessed you were going to buy them so I picked them up for you,” she holds out a hand, “ so thirty bucks mister.”

Bucky gives a ragged sigh and dips a hand into the front pocket of his jeans and pulls out a roll of cash. She watches him peel off three ten dollar bills and hand them to her. She smiles at him and shoves the notes into the back pocket of her own jeans.

“So, Picture?”

“Sure, why not. Talking to her in the store felt like a hallucination anyway,” he mutters and waits for her to bring the pictures up. She hands him the phone and watches how he stares at the photograph.

“My great-niece. She kinda looks like my mom. Her name was Katherine, she said she was named after her.” He shrugs again and she can see the shutters begin to come down.

“I also have a photo of her grandpa, who she says was your brother. She said he passed away five years ago. He opened the bookstore in the fifties, it’s been in the family since. She runs it now.” She takes her phone back from him and goes to the photo she’d taken of the photo Katie shared with her earlier. “You want to see it?” she enquires.

Bucky stares at her for a full minute and she can see the internal battle he’s waging inside of his head.

“It can wait you know, if you’re not ready,” she adds on. Eventually he holds out a hand and she hands it to him.

“Don’t break my phone,” she warns him and watches as he takes a slow deep breath and then look at the picture.

He stares at it for a long minute and doesn’t say a word. She doesn’t realise she’s holding her breath until she sees the shine in his eyes. He hands her the phone and then turns his back on her. She exhales quietly but doesn’t make a move as she waits to see what he’ll do next.

He opens the passenger door to the SUV and climbs in, slamming the door shut behind him. Corrie sighs again and pockets her phone and goes to the driver’s seat.

* * *

She knows better than to engage him in any conversation. He keeps his head averted, staring out of the window as she starts up the engine, listening to it roar into life. She switches the radio on but turns it down so the music and accompanying burble is just background noise. She reverses out of the parking space and heads out.

He doesn’t say a word. Not a single one all the way back to the complex. When she parks the SUV in the garage, he’s out of the vehicle before she’s come to a complete stop and heading inside. Leaving his bags in the trunk again. She leans back in her seat and she sighs once more. It had been a bad idea showing him the picture of Katie Barnes’s grandfather.

She unloads the trunk and carries everything inside. She leaves his shopping bags and his books just outside of his door but off to the side slightly. He’ll see them but he won’t fall over them. She heads to her own room and drops her own bags off but takes the sealed ball cap to the labs, instructing the scientists to begin their forensic analysis.


	3. Brand New Page.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky meets Katie. It doesn't go how he expects it to. 
> 
> I've taken liberties with names of siblings as well as back stories, especially where Bucky's siblings are concerned and when they moved from Indiana to Brooklyn.

**Brand New Page.**

The bags have disappeared. They’d been outside of his door for a full hour or so after she’d left them there but now they’re gone. It’s been a couple of hours since their arrival back at the complex and she hasn’t seen or heard him.

* * *

He lifts his head when he hears the gentle tap on his door and he’s very tempted to stay quiet and hope his visitor gets the hint and leaves him alone. If it’s Sam, he won’t wait for an invitation and will barge straight in. Tact is not his strong suit.

“Bucky, it’s Corrie. May I come in?” Her voice is slightly muffled through the door and he quietly sighs. Very English, very polite. He knows that if he says no, she’ll leave him alone but he also knows that she will also not leave the matter alone until she’s said her piece.

“Yeah. Door’s open,” he replies and after a moment she enters. She stands in the entranceway and for a second just looks at him. He then notices that she carries a couple of bottles of beer.

“I come bearing gifts,” she tells him, lifting them slightly. Despite his mood, a ghost of a smile crosses his lips.

“So I can see. C’mon in, you’re letting in the distinct lack of cold,” he answers. He sees a look of relief bloom briefly on her face as she does exactly that, kicking the door quietly shut behind her.

He’s sitting on the side of his bed. He watches as she approaches and she hands him one of the beer bottles, hearing his quiet ‘thanks’ in return. She sits down beside him and looks at him.

“How are you doing?” she asks.

“I’m okay,” he replies and takes a swig of his beer.

“Want to talk about it?”

He turns his head, makes eye contact. “Not particularly.”

“Okay.” She takes a drink of her own beer, feeling the ice cold liquid fill her mouth.

“That’s all you’re gonna say, just okay?” Bucky’s voice is filled with scepticism.

“What did you think I was going to do? Badger you until you talked? That may be what Sam would do but it’s not my style. If you want to talk to me, then I’ll happily listen but I won’t demand it of you. If you want to talk about it, you will but not until you’re ready.”

She watches as he gets to his feet and approaches the book case that’s adjacent to his bed. It holds a few more books, almost a whole shelf full now. On another shelf are two framed photographs. She gets to her feet and follows him and she stands beside him. They’re old photographs, definitely pre Second World War. One of them she recognises as Steve Rogers, pre serum Steve. It always amazes her how successful the serum was on him when she sees pictures of him prior to Project Rebirth. He’s sitting beside a much younger Bucky, their arms around each other’s necks, the smiles of acknowledged brotherhood on both of their faces. She watches him pick it up, stare at it for a moment.

“We were just kids in this picture, about to start high school I think. I’m not too clear on the dates.”

“You remember that?”

A faint smile of remembrance crosses Bucky’s face as he stares at the picture some more.

“Some of it. Steve was my best friend since we were kids. I’m sure you’ve heard the story of me coming to his rescue in the school yard. The biggest guy in the class decided to use him as his personal punch bag all because Steve asked him to not harass Maisie Klein.”

“Maisie Klein being…”

“A sweet kid in his class who used to sit with Steve during morning recess when his asthma got to be too much for him. I kinda think she was sweet on him but Steve was either oblivious or just too shy. He was seven or eight. I kicked that guy’s ass and a friendship was born.” Another smile.

“Understatement,” Corrie murmurs and Bucky turns his head and regards her.

“You’ve read the files?”

“I had to. Even though Cap highly recommended you for this job, we had to do our due diligence.”

“Of course. I wouldn’t have expected anything less. So you’ve seen all of my files?”

Corrie just nods. She’s seen everything Natasha uploaded, videos included and those alone had given her nightmares as well as a deep unspoken respect for a man who’d undergone such horrors for another regime’s personal gain and come out of the other side relatively intact. Not that he sees it that way but Corrie does.

“He got through to me, when the programming was beginning to unravel. He was the one who reminded me who I was, who I am. Told me what my name is.” Bucky’s voice is low as he returns his attention to the photograph.

“He loves you very much.”

“ I know. And me, him. That phrase, brothers from another mother….” Another fainter smile begins to materialise as his words fade away.

“You turned down the shield.”

“Sam was always the right choice, always. I’m just happy to stick around and help out where I’m needed, that’s all.” He shrugs and replaces the picture on the shelf. He glances at her as he turns. “If I’m ever to pick up the shield, if there’s ever a circumstance where I have to, then I’ve got to earn that right first.”

“And you don’t think you’re there yet.”

His expression is pensive. He shakes his head.

“No and to be honest, I don’t think I ever will be,” he murmurs.

* * *

The complex is quiet at this time of night. Sam and Bucky have retreated to their respective rooms. Sam had returned from wherever he’d been with a wide smile on his face and an easy teasing demeanour that managed to coax a smile from the quiet Winter Soldier once in a while. If he’s realised something is up with him, he hasn’t asked him or at least she doesn’t think that he has but he’s perceptive: he will. Maybe Bucky will open up to him more than to her. They’d each finished their beer earlier on, went their separate ways with nothing more being said about their afternoon out, either in the street or about the book store.

Right now she’s doing a deep dive on one Katherine Louise Barnes. She’s twenty eight years old and the current proprietor of Buchanan Books which is a business that was started in the mid nineteen fifties by one Charles George Barnes who was, according to census records, six years Bucky’s junior and the first of the Barnes children to be born in Brooklyn, New York. It’s surprised Corrie a little to learn that Bucky had actually been born in Shelbyville in Indiana just before the United States entered the First World War. They had moved east when Bucky was five years old and his sister Rebecca was just a toddler. Charles arrived shortly afterwards. It was three years later that they settled in Brooklyn and Bucky enrolled into the school where he would come to the rescue of one Steven Grant Rogers, who was approximately sixteen months his junior. She’s already read up on everything to do with Bucky as well as Steve but after seeing the photograph of them together as children earlier in the day, it takes on a more three dimensional context.

Everything seems to be checking out though. She is who she claims to be. She can’t find any skeletons in any closets and she finds that encouraging but Corrie needs to complete a few more thorough runs to be absolutely sure before she’s completely satisfied.

* * *

“Are you familiar with the name Jonathan Kelly?” Fury asks Bucky a few days later. They’re all seated around the conference table. Bucky is slouched on one of the chairs, staring at the wall mounted screen across from him that shows a photograph of the guy who’d tried to steal Corrie’s purse. There’s something familiar about him though now that he stares at his picture. He can’t quite put his finger on it but there’s something about him that nags a little at his subconscious. Maybe it’s the look in his eyes, the cold arrogance that he can see there. Slowly he shakes his head.

“I mean there’s something…I don’t know… _familiar_ about him but the name means absolutely nothing.” Which to be honest, isn’t much of a stretch.

“How about I give you his real surname?” Fury continues. He glances first at Corrie and then at Sharon Carter who sits opposite Bucky. He catches the expression and he straightens in his seat. He has a feeling he’s not going to like this.

“And that is?”

“Rumlow.”

For a moment there’s silence apart from Sam’s muttered _“son of a bitch.”_

“As in Brock Rumlow?” Bucky asks. Fury nods just the once.

“Half brothers. Jonathan is the younger. Idolised big brother, took his death real hard. Blamed a lot of people.”

“Big brother blew himself up in Nigeria, almost took Steve with him,” Bucky reminds him.

“We know but with these types, it’s never their fault, it’s always someone else’s.”

“So he’s coming for me? Because of my connection to Steve?”

“We don’t know. The DNA from the ball cap you retrieved the other day identifies him as Jonathan Kelly, Ms Harris, fact finder extraordinaire made the other connections.”

“Wait a minute, he mentioned a boss. Do you know who he’s working for?”

“We’re still working on that, we have a few names to work with, we’ll let you know if and when we have something less circumstantial to deal with.” He looks at Corrie again and Bucky gets the distinct impression that he knows a little more than he’s willing to share with the table.

“One of the names has got you curious though, so who is it?” he asks.

“I’m not at liberty to divulge that piece of information just yet Sergeant Barnes but when I am, you’ll be the first to know,” Fury responds smoothly, a hint of steel in his voice.

* * *

Everyone begins to disband.

‘Bucky? A moment please?” Corrie requests and he pauses and gives her a curious look but her expression is carefully blank as the rest of the team leave the room. She then takes a deep breath and approaches him.

“Regarding the other day,” she begins.

“The other day?”

“Buchanan Books,” she supplies and Bucky understands.

“Oh. What about it?”

“I did a full background check on Katherine Barnes… Katie. She claims to be your great-niece.”

“I remember. My memory might be bad on some things but not with that. What about her?”

“She checks out. I ran every check I could think of and she’s clean. She _is_ the granddaughter of your youngest brother Charlie. She wasn’t making that bit up.”

“I didn’t think that she was. It was too specific,” Bucky mutters, shoving his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. He watches as she takes a slip of notepaper out of her ever present folder and she hands it to him.

“These are her contact details. Phone number, email address. It’s entirely up to you whether you want to make contact but the impression that I received of her is that while she handled it very clumsily, her motives seem genuinely pure. You don’t have to make contact if you don’t want to and I warned her that might be the case but I’m going to leave the ball in your court.” Bucky takes the piece of paper from her and he looks down at it. He sighs, folds it in half and then in half again and slides it into the back pocket of his jeans.

“Thanks. For checking her out and giving me this. I appreciate you looking out for me.”

“You’re welcome. It’s part of the reason why I’m here. You need any assistance then you know where I am. Just ask.” She offers him a smile and heads out of the conference room.

* * *

He’s debated the reasons behind this constantly since he got out of bed this morning. He’s been alone for so long, he’s fine being by himself. He’s used to it. He’d convinced himself that connecting with any family could be potentially dangerous, for them and for him. Anyone who discovers their existence could use them as leverage, for control, for revenge but damn it, there’s a part of him, an always deeply curious part of him that wants to _know_. Does he have family? Anyone he could share DNA and other similarities with? Maybe Katie will be able to answer his questions about his family. Then there’s the whole Winter Soldier persona. Does she know about that? He doubts it. Does he tell her about that and deal with any consequences or does he keep that part of his history to himself?

He takes a deep shaky breath. He pauses by the shop window and stares at the display but he’s not really seeing it. He pushes his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket, aware that both fists are clenched inside.

“God, what the hell am I doing?” he mutters. He begins to turn but then stops.

“Damn it,” he whispers and turns back around.

His heart is thumping hard as he pushes the door open and he goes inside. The store is busy, he realises as his eyes scan the interior. The smell of new books, new paper. The displays arranged here and there, placed prominently to catch the eye, to make the shopper pause and take a look but he’s not here to shop or take a look at anything. He looks towards the cash desk and sees her there, smiling at a customer and bagging up their purchases. He pauses as she turns her head and looks his way. For the life of him, Bucky can’t move even though there’s a voice inside of his head telling him to do so and to do so quickly. She stares at him for what feels like an eternity but in reality is probably only a few seconds before she says something to her assistant and she’s walking towards him.

His heart is still keeping up a hard beat in his chest but he doesn’t run. Instead he slowly swallows against a dry throat and he waits.

“Hi,” Katie greets, her voice quiet, a little nervous. “I didn’t think I’d see you again.”

“Hi,” Bucky replies, offering a quick, nervous smile, “You almost didn’t.”

“I’m sorry I caught you unaware before. In hindsight, I should’ve realised and approached you less publicly.”

Bucky shrugs.

“It’s okay, I guess under the circumstances, there wasn’t really a right way to do it,” he answers. For a moment they just regard each other.

“Would you like a cup of coffee? I live above the store. We can talk, if you want to?” she invites. Bucky feels a little tension loosen in his shoulders and he finds himself nodding.

“I’d like that, thanks.”

He follows her through the store and through a door that’s marked as ‘staff only’. There’s a door straight ahead which she walks through. She pauses and looks at him over her shoulder.

“This way,” she tells him, her voice soft and he sees a staircase to their left.

* * *

Her apartment is small, homely. He keeps his hands in the pockets of his jacket as they head inside. They walk along a narrow passage way. A doorway to his right opens into what he discovers is a kitchen diner which in turn opens out into a living area that is the width of the entire apartment. A large bay window allows for sunlight to flood through. He follows her through into this room and he takes it all in. There’s a fireplace to his right and to his left, one wall is floor to ceiling bookshelves, all crammed full. A couch hugs the shape of the window sill, deep green in colour, a purple throw tossed over its back, matching cushions at either end. He notices framed photographs on the wall above the fireplace and he resists the urge to wander over to investigate them with barely contained control.

“Take a seat. I’ll make us some coffee. How do you take it?” she asks him as she heads towards the small kitchen.

“Black, no sugar.”

Katie smiles at him. “Just like my grandpa,” she tells him.

* * *

Since he escaped from HYDRA, he appreciates a good cup of coffee: the hotter and stronger the better. Maybe it’s a leftover from being constantly frozen and held in suspended animation, he’s not sure but he especially loves the feeling of the hot liquid burning its way down to his stomach as well as the jolt of caffeine shortly afterwards. He slowly lowers himself down onto the couch as Katie heads into the kitchen and busies herself with making coffee for the both of them. He takes a slow deep breath and takes in his surroundings once more. It’s so quiet up here. He expected to hear people coming and going downstairs but he doesn’t. He can, however, hear the low hum of traffic outside the window, a couple of floors below him. He watches as she returns. She’s carrying a tray which contains a coffee pot, two cups and a small plate of cookies. He stares at them for a second or two as she places the tray on the low table in front of him. He can smell them: vanilla, cinnamon and what he could almost swear is ginger. It pings a memory, somewhat hazy. He then looks at Katie to see her observing him.

“The cookies….” He begins. He doesn’t know how to explain it but they smell weirdly familiar. He watches as she comes to sit beside him but being careful to maintain a comfortable space between them.

“They’re a family recipe.”

Comprehension dawns then. “My mom….” A memory of her working in the kitchen, the smell of ginger and cinnamon billowing through the warm air, the sting of her fingers across the back of his inquisitive hands as he reaches for a cookie fresh from the oven, being reminded to wait, that to eat one now would result in burned fingers and a burned tongue and no more cookies for Bucky. “My mom used to bake them. When I was a kid. I remember.”

“It’s her recipe.”

Another memory blossoms, “She had a book of ‘em. Wrote them all down by hand.”

“I have it. Great Aunt Rebecca gave it to me. Would you like to see it?”

He feels his heart give a hard double tap in his chest. He just nods. Before she goes to retrieve it, she picks up one of the cups and hands it to him. It’s already full, the scent of the coffee reaching him, filling his senses. Not instant coffee. He knows the good stuff when he smells it. Oh boy, he’s not sure whether he’s going to be able to handle all of this new information all at once. That thought makes him replace the cup on the table with a clatter which makes Katie pause.

“Too much too soon, right?” she guesses. Bucky deliberately doesn’t look at her as he nods rapidly.

“That’s okay. Whenever you’re ready to take a look, we can take a look. There’s no rush.” Her voice sounds a little hesitant and he turns his eyes to hers. She looks hopeful too. He swallows.

“Katie…I…” He gives his head a little shake, “Maybe this isn’t such a good idea after all.” He goes to get to his feet and her eyes widen.

“Please! Please don’t go!” she begs and he freezes and stares at he again.

“I’m sorry if you feel that I’m moving too fast. The last thing that I want is for you to feel overwhelmed. I didn’t mean to rush you and I swear that I won’t any more… I guess… I just want to…get to know you. My grandpa talked about you all the time, the whole family did. We always felt like we knew you, _that_ Bucky anyway…” Her voice fades a little as she re-takes her seat.

“But not this one,” he answers, his voice low as he copies her and sits back on the couch. Katie shakes her head.

“When Steve came back from being frozen, I was in High School and it caused such a sensation. My grandpa couldn’t believe it. He always wondered about you, y’know. The family got a telegram telling them you were missing in action, presumed dead but without a…body…I think he always held a secret hope that you were out there…somewhere…even after so long. If Steve could return then why not you?” Bucky absorbs her words but doesn’t answer. How can he tell her that that was what happened? How can he explain that he spent seventy years being tortured, brainwashed and used as an enemy’s weapon? He can’t. Yeah, he’s here, looking almost as young as he did the day he was deployed but he can’t tell her how it happened or what happened. He takes a slow deep breath and he looks at her.

“I can’t tell you what happened to me but I want you to know that even though I was alive, I couldn’t return. It’s complicated and it’s classified but I couldn’t return, not like Steve did and I’m…sorry.”

“It’s classified?”

Bucky just nods. “I can’t talk about it.” Not just can’t, he doesn’t _want_ to talk about it.

“Your colleague said that your line of work is classified.”

“My colleague?”

“The British lady. Ms Harris. I thought she was your wife the first time I saw her with you, when you first came into my shop.”

Bucky’s eyes widen marginally at _that_ thought. He then shakes his head.

“No, not married or anything like that. We work together, that’s all.”

“She’s very protective of you. Scared the crap out of me for the first five minutes of our conversation after you left.”

“Part of her job description. She’s tough and very protective.”

“You like working with her?”

Bucky just nods. “I do,” he confirms.

“Do you have a wife? Or a girlfriend or anyone like that?” she asks and once again Bucky’s eyes go wide at the question.

“No…nothin’ like that.” He swears he can feel a blush begin. He can’t remember the last time talking about a woman, non-existent or not made him flush like that.

“Not in your line of work I suppose.”

“Not in my line of work,” he tells her.

“Wish I knew what that was.”

“It’s classified for a reason. Trust me, be thankful you don’t know,” he replies, knowing with that statement he’s piqued her interest further but that’s all he’s going to say. He picks up his coffee cup again and takes a sip. A faint smile crosses his lips as he glances down at the cup. It’s good. The flavour explodes on his tongue.

“My grandpa always said I made a good cup of coffee,” she tells him, as if she can read his thoughts. He looks at her and just nods.

“You do. I think there’s a knack to it and not everyone can get it right but you’re close…” He watches how her eyes widen briefly in surprise before she begins to smile and then she chuckles. 

“That’s something my Grandpa would say too. Can I ask you something?” she begins, a little hesitantly

“Well you can ask, I don’t know whether I’ll be able to answer,” he responds, determined to keep his tone light.

“It’s not about your work. It was something Ms Harris said to me. She mentioned that you might not want to get in contact with me and I was wondering, why?”

Bucky huffs out a sigh as he contemplates how he’s going to answer.

“Well…apart from it being a lot to absorb…I mean it’s not every day that a girl claiming to be your great niece accosts you out of nowhere… my past…what I went through…my story is nowhere near like Steve’s. I’m not a hero. I’m nowhere near.”

He can see that she’s curious. Of course she would be, he would be, how could she not be?

“I was…taken by what would be considered as enemy forces. Held hostage. For years I was brainwashed, tortured. I did things that I was not proud of and that I shouldn’t be forgiven for. I’m still coming to terms with all of that. A lot of which I don’t really remember.” He keeps his voice deliberately low, matter of fact.

“What kind of things?” she asks.

Bucky just shakes his head. “You don’t want to know. I don’t think you’re ready to know. It wasn’t pretty, that’s all.” He takes a slow breath and he fixes her with a look.

“You know…I don’t know if this whole…family…thing is gonna work. Too much has happened, too much bad… _bad_ stuff. I’m not sure it’s worth it.” The more he thinks about it, the more he’s sure. Far too much has happened, could she cope with the truth, he wonders. Maybe she has a version of him in her mind, of a war hero, who was lost, held prisoner and returned to them. She doesn’t know anything of the truth, of what he went through, what he was made to do.

“I saw the press coverage after the events in Vienna, if that’s what you’re alluding to,” Katie replies just as quietly. Bucky frowns at this. He remembers that his identity was revealed to the media after the UN bombing in Vienna. When it was revealed the Winter Soldier was responsible and after that all hell literally broke loose.

“You saw that?”

“It was hard not to, it was literally everywhere. Everyone was looking for you. We paid attention because of the name. The family thought it was someone with the same name. Grandpa thought it was you but by the time it was made public he was in the final throws of dementia and we just thought he was lost in the past but thinking back…that picture that was released. That was you. The press said you worked for HYDRA, that you were a wanted terrorist.”

Bucky quietly exhales. This is a direction he didn’t see today heading in.

_Well hell, here goes…._

“That wasn’t me. I mean…people were looking for me and that picture was supposed to be me. But it wasn’t. I didn’t do what they accused me of. I wasn’t even in Vienna at the time it happened.” He feels a mild anxiety begin to wash over him, cold and unwelcome. He’s sharing far too much information with her but at the same time he feels a deep need to make her understand despite what he said earlier about walking away if she didn’t want to be a part of all of this after all.

“When I said I was brainwashed and tortured…”

“You were made into who they said you were. Grandpa said you wouldn’t do that, he said you were a good loyal man. He said you wouldn’t have served your country to do what they said you’d done, voluntarily. He didn’t believe them.”

“I did everything they said I did Katie. Charlie’s right, not voluntarily but I still did it but I don’t do that anymore. You need to understand that. If you can’t then for God’s sake, tell me and I will walk away and you’ll never see or hear from me again, I promise.”

Katie just stares at him.

“You fought against Thanos and his army, didn’t you? With Steve and the other Avengers?”

“I’m not an Avenger, I never was.”

“Still…you helped to defend us, the earth…right?”

Bucky just nods. He can feel his heart begin to bang in his chest again.

“If you were still _that_ man…who the press claimed you were, then you wouldn’t have.”

“That’s a little too simplistic, Katie.”

“Grandpa _said_ you were a good man. He said you loved your parents, you took care of him and your sisters while they were growing up. You protected them. Grandpa was a good judge of character all of his life. Dementia or not, he didn’t believe you were a willing participant in all of that…HYDRA stuff.” She pauses. “If he were here right now, he’d pull you into his arms and hug you and not let go. He would forgive you, he would understand the why. He wouldn’t condemn you. He’d believe in you, his brother.” Bucky doesn’t answer. He can’t speak as he feels his throat tighten, the backs of his eyes begin to burn.

“I’m willing to start fresh. A brand new page. All of that past stuff doesn’t matter to me. You might think that it should but it doesn’t. The past five years have proved that to me. I’m willing to begin again, be family if you are. I know it won’t be easy but I’m willing to try if you are.” Her eyes are bold, challenging and Bucky feels his vision begin to blur a little. He then takes a deep shaky breath.

“Damn it, kid,” he whispers. He blinks back the tears that feel suspiciously close, “Don’t say stuff like that. It should matter to you. It _should_.” He feels a tear escape and he quickly swipes it away. He reaches for his coffee cup and takes another mouthful, taking the brief moment to get his emotions in check again.

“And yet it doesn’t. So what do you say? You want to?”

Bucky sighs loudly, raggedly. He looks at her again, at the challenge still in her eyes.

“You remind me of my mom. What I remember of her. She was a force to be reckoned with. Nobody could tell her what to do in an era where plenty tried.”

“My dad and my grandpa both told me that. It’s a family trait.” Bucky slowly nods.

“I know.” Another mouthful of coffee. He’s still trying to tell himself that being part of a family is a bad, dangerously bad idea. He looks at her once more.

“If we’re gonna do this then there have to be some…conditions, I guess. I’m still wrapping my head around all of it and for now I have to insist on some rules.”

Katie’s eyes are bright. “Name them.”

Another shaky sigh from Bucky.

“Okay. Rule number one. No one else in the family can know about me, our relationship. Anyone asks, I’m a friend.” He sees how she frowns at this. “It’s taken me just about every ounce of…strength that I have to show up today, to talk to you. Right now I couldn’t cope with more family members wanting to know about me, my life, where I’ve been for the past eighty plus years. I’m not saying it’s gotta be permanent but for now, just you.”

“The family are going to recognise you if they come across you here or anywhere else, with me. Your photos are everywhere. You aren’t a secret.”

Bucky just shrugs. “Then I’ll deal with that if and when that happens but right now, just you and me.” He holds her gaze, challenging her. She huffs out a sigh.

“Okay, deal,” she murmurs.

“Rule number two. Don’t ask me about what I do. My job. My past. I can’t and won’t talk about it. Classified for a reason, remember? And if you do come across anything or I share anything with you then you don’t breathe a word of it to anyone. Corrie will have my hide and yours too if security is breached. She’s already checked you out.”

“She has?”

“Sweetheart, I wouldn’t even be here if she hadn’t.”

“Okay. That makes sense and I agree to rule number two.”

“Thank you,” he murmurs.

“But I do want to know one thing” she continues and the look he sends her is wary to say the least. Then she smiles.

“What do I call you? Uncle James? Uncle Bucky?” The smile widens to a grin at his look of absolute horror.

“Bucky is fine. No need for any Uncle crap,” he answers and she chuckles.

**The End. (For Now)**


End file.
